


Flowers....for me?

by howsharry



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confession, M/M, sherlock being sherlocky about it, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsharry/pseuds/howsharry
Summary: “You bought flowers”, John noticed rather dumbfounded.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I wrote this sappy shit at 2 a.m. and edited it in my break so it's....fluff

“You bought flowers”, John noticed rather dumbfounded. 

Sherlock looked up from where he had just placed the vase of white and yellow tulips and blinked back at his flat mate.

“I did.” With that he turned around and began searching through his experiment protocols.

“You never buy flowers.”

“Well, I didn’t intend to.”

John huffed. “What?”

Sherlock waved him off, his back turned towards him. “I didn’t intend to.”

“You just chased some goon into a flower shop, threw off some vases and had to buy the flowers as compensation or what?” John’s face turned into a frown and he rose from his seat to take a closer look at the tulips. Sherlock had placed them on the table, right between what one could interpret as their respective workstations if it hadn’t been for the general chaos of pens, notes, microscope slides and case photos. 

“I bought too many for Mrs. Hudson and took some upstairs to brighten up the room, if you must know”, Sherlock muttered.

John shook his head. “Don’t bullshit me, Sherlock, you don’t care about the aesthetic of our flat and you know exactly what sizes Mrs. Hudson vases are. You told me last week none of them were big enough to properly hide a land line telephone.”

With a sigh Sherlock turned around to John and buried his flimsy hands in the pockets of his Belstaff. He wore a serious expression on his face in the knowledge that no lie could properly convince John.

“It’s valentines day.”

John snorted and a small smile rushed over Sherlock’s face too.

“You’re being serious”, John realized too late. 

“Of course”, the detective said and took a deep breath, “since you don’t have a girlfriend this year to share it with and looked a bit grumpy all day I thought I might as well bring some of the romance waiting for you outside into the flat. Too brighten the mood. Tulips are said to be flowers of hope.”

John shook his head, continuing to be mesmerized by the combination of unexpected floral decorum and Sherlock’s increasingly flushed cheeks. 

“That’s not what their symbolism is”, he disagreed.

Sherlock smiled shortly. “They were the ones that smelled the least overwhelming.”

“You bought me flowers on valentines day so I wouldn’t feel alone...”, John guessed, his eyes flickering between the bouquet and Sherlock.

Sherlock pursed his lips and reached inside his Belstaff. “I got you a card, too.”

He handed it over, it was a photograph. John looked at it for some time before he realized it was Anderson, hilariously wet to the bone, holding an umbrella at an landside crime scene. John noticed himself in the background, leaning over a corpse - and oh! he remembered the case: a car crash involving carbonmonoxide. - and Sherlock standing close by, looking at him with a expression that could be described as...admiring.

John turned the photograph and found short text: 

To my companion,  
Sherlock Holmes.

John swallowed and looked up. “Flowers and a card then, yeah?”

“You’re deductive skills are at their best, Watson”, Sherlock answered. 

John raised both brows to a maximum level and sighed deeply. He had to smile at the picture, and at the flowers he had never before received from someone else if he thought about it. At reading the card his heart melted. This was Sherlock’s special, unique way of showing that he cared.

He pursed his lips and thought about the things he learned in the last years of miscommunication and endless therapy sessions.

“Can I give you a hug?”, he asked, loudly, and clearly a question which could be denied. 

It wasn’t going to be. Instead Sherlock nodded and stepped forward, waiting for John to meet him where he stood. John did, throwing his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders to pull him down and - quite spontaneously - press his lips to his detective’s temple. They stood in silence for a delicate second, until John could feel Sherlock’s breathing continuing, although his hands didn’t quite relieve the grip around John’s shirt back.

“Thank you”, John murmured against Sherlock’s skin. 

“You like it?”, Sherlock asked back, his voice a rough whisper. 

“Of course.”

“’Of course’ because it’s flowers in general or because I gave them to you?”

John paused, pressing his temple against the side of Sherlock’s face. He felt like he made a decision that moment. “The latter.”

Sherlock’s face shifted underneath his skin and the detective’s lips found the corner of John’s mouth, placing a gentle press of lips there and staying for a long moment. 

“I have thought about a topic for a long time, I have conducted various experiments and studies in fact. I have come to the conclusion, that there is nothing I love more in the world than you, John Watson”, Sherlock confessed. “So flowers were appropriate.”

John made a small sound he didn’t know he was able to produce. He never felt more content, more full in his entire life than now, in the arms of the man he loved to desperately and intimately and when that man reciprocated that love so completely. 

“Sherlock”, he murmured against Sherlock’s skin until his lips pressed against the other man’s in a short, desperate brawl for the contact he needed. And it fitted perfectly into their life, the last missing puzzle piece. 

Sherlock was gentle and John was kissing back fiercely, until the detective broke away and rested his forehead against John’s. 

“How long do they have to stay?”, he murmured. “They’re stinking.”

John laughed, a rumble that he especially felt were both their chest were connected. 

“I love you, too, you know.”

“I'm being serious, John.”


End file.
